/ 





FRENCH’S STANDARD DRAMA. 

Price 12i Cents each. — Bound Volumes $1. 


VOL. I. 

1. Ion, 

2. Fazio, 

3. The Lady of Lyons, 

4. Richelieu, 

5. The Wife, 

6. The Honeymoon, 

7. The School for Scandal, 

8. Money. 

"With a Portrait and Memoir 
of Mrs. A. C. MOWATT. 

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23. Virginius, 

20. King of the Commons, 

27. London Assurance, 

28. The Rent Day, 

29. Two Gentlemen of Ve- 

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30. The Jealous Wife, 

31. The Rivals, 

32. Perfection. 

With a Portrait and Memoir 
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50. Macbeth, 

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54. The Duenna, 

55. Much Ado About No 

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78. Sweethearts and Wives, 

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80. She Stoops to Conquer. 
With a Portraitand Memoir 

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101. Sardanapalus, 

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104. Katharine & Petruchio. 
With a Portrait and Memoir 

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9. The Stranger, 

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1 1. Richard III., 

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14. A Cure for the Heartache 

15. The Hunchback, 

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112. La Tourde Ncsle. 

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1 13. Ireland as it Is, 

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1 17. Forty Thieves, 

118. Bryan Boroihme, 

119. Romance and Reality, 

120. LTgolino. 

With a Portrait and Memoir 
of BARNEY WILLIAMS^ 
of cover.] 


FRENCH’S 

STA.3STDA.IID DRAMA. 

STIje Acting Stuttorc. 

No. CLXI, 


M l ! : . ’ ' . j* 

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE : 

AN 

ORIGINAL DRAMATIC STORY. 


IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY 

JOHN BROUGHAM, Comedian, 

ii 




TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 

A Description of the Costume— Cast of the Characters— Entrances and Exits- 
Relative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and the whole of the 

Stage Business. 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the Year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty-Six, by John 
Brougham, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District ef 

New York. 

« 

* ,*-e 

. » 

’ ** . 

»** 

NEW-YORK : 

SAMUEL FRENC 

121 NASS AU. STREET. 

c- c I % 6' 4> n 



C-— A * 


-P'bW**' 


Costumes. — (A ll’s Fair in Love.) 




LINDORFF — 1st. Green Hunting-dress: 2d. Amber Tunic, trimmed 
with Fur. 

ROLAND — Blue Tunic, Gray Tights, Yellow Boots. 

HERMANN — Green Hunting-dress. 

OTTO— Ditto. 

BARON ALTENHEIM — Long Velvet Shirt, dark color, trimmed with 
Fur. 

KRABB — Short Yellow Tunic, barred, with red. Red Tights and 
Shoes. 

BEAUGARCON— Very rich Shape. 

GROSCHEN— Brown Shirt, Arm-hole Cloak. 

EVA — 1st. Dress, Amber Skirt, Black Bodice : 2d. Bridal Dress. 

BERTHA — 1st. Dress, Blue Skirt, Crimson Bodice : 2d. Dress of a 
Page. 

IDA — White Merino Skirt, trimmed with gold, Blue Bodice, laced with 
gold, very rich. 

KATRINA — White Skirt, barred with Silk, and edged Black, Black 
Bodice, and Fancy Apron. 


<& ast of tfje Characters, — (All’s Fair in Love.) 


AS FIRST REPRESENTED AT THE BOWERY THEATRE. 


Count Lindorff, 

Baron Altenheim , 
Hermann , 

Le Chevalier Geaugarfon, 
Mynheer Von Eroschen , 
Roland , - 
Krabb, - 
Otto. - 


Mr. Brougham. 

Mr. Conrad Clarke. 

Mr. S. E. McDonough. 
Mr. Whiting. 

Mr. Bellamy, 

Mr. Duncan. 

Mr. Hale. 

Mr. Denham. 

Mrs. T. S. Nimm. 

Miss Kate Reynolds. 
Miss F. Denham. 

Mrs. Hale. 


Eva , 

Bertha , 

Lady Ida , 

Katrina , - 

Lords , Ladies , Huntsmen , rf-e. 


STAGE DIRECTIONS. 


EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 

L. means First Entrance , Left. R. Entrance , Right. S. E. L. 

Second Entrance , Left. S. E. R. Second Entrance, Right. U. E. L. 
Upper Entrance, Left. U. E. R. Upper Entrance, Right. C. Centre. 
L. C. Left of Centre. R. C. Right of Centre. T. E. L. Third Entrance, 
Left. T. E. R. Third Entrance , Right. C. D. Centre Door. D. R. 
Door Right. D. L. Door Left. U. D. L. Upper Door, Left. U. D. R. 
Upper Door , Right. 

*** The Reader is supposed to be on the Stage, facing the Audience. 


ALL’S FAIR IN LOYE. 


ACT I. 

Scene I. — The Chief Huntsman's Chamber in the Castle of Count Lin- 
borf — window at back, with flowers , &c., <fc. Otto and other hunts- 
men discovered. 

Enter Hermann, 

Her. Let your spurs rest, good friends, the wind has changed 
Already, and the eager hounds re-kennelled, 

The steeds new stabled, — we don’t hunt to-day ! 

Though scarce an hour has passed, sine® in hot haste 
His lordship’s page, my malapert young son, 

Brought urgent message to have all prepared. 

The order now is, we equip for hawking, 

So get thy birds, good Otto. 

Otto. That I will, 

And with a lighter heart, for ’tis a sport 
I much prefer, to making of my flesh 

Ensanguined sheathes for master boar's sharp tusks. [ Exit Otto. 

Her. I marvel much what variable storm 
Of circumstance or passion, good or ill, 

Enforces thus the vane of my lord's mind 
To veer about so quickly ; to no point 
Of predetermination has it held, 

And marked the issue, for this many a day. 

It cannot be caprice or thoughtlessness — 

Too well I know his frank and manly nature. 

Something hath happed beyond the petty ills 
That cloud life’s spring-time, for although he strives, 

And with success, to hide from common eyes 
External trace of that which works within, 

It is to me, who have his looks by heart, 

Plain as the figures that record the change 

From hour to hour upon the dial’s face. ° [Retires up. 

Enter Otto with hoop of falcons, $c. 

Otto. Poor hooded wretch, I’m just as blind as thou, 

And know as little what mv fate will be 


% 


all’s fair in loye. 


5 




When this poor coward heart is goaded on 
To dash at my love- quarry. Oh, dear Eva ! 

Oh ! thou most gentle dove, that such sweet death 
Doth deal upon me that I love the slayer. 

Her. Why, Otto, lad, what comfort do you find 
In this bird converse. Haply you believe 
The ancient doctrine, that the souls of men 
New lodging find within their slender ribs. 

Otto. Indeed, good Hermann, I am not so wise, 

I simply think, that — now to break the ice — 

I — I — love your daughter ! 

Her. Faith, you shot your bolt 

Right suddenly, friend Otto. 

Otto. Better thus, 

Than dally with it, till I lost my aim. 

But how is this, I feared a storm 1 

Her. Why should you I 

If I am not deceived, you’ll bring my child 
The richest dower I could wish — an honest heart. 

Have you told her so bluntly of your flame 1 
As rhymsters call it. 

Otto. No ! good gracious ! no ! 

The very thought now sets me shivering, 

Like a poor hound that spies the coming lash. 

Her. Tush ! would you starve to death, the food in sight, 
For lack of courage to ask — May I eat? 

Otto. Were I invited even by a glance, 

’Twould be sufficient. But her coldness freezes 
All but the fiery love that ’s surging here 
Like an unquiet Etna ! Oh, good Hermann ! 

Dear father — as my heart now yearns to call thee — 

Would you but find from her what hope I have ? 

Her. Nay — I’ll not promise that. I cannot spy 
Into my daughter’s heart, enough to know 
’Tis innocent and pure, and as I think 
Untenanted by any thought of love. 

An open page, if you have but the wit 
To write your name on it and make it thine. 

And lucky he who can accomplish this — 

No paltry treasure would be Bertha’s love. 

Otto. I dream not of her — 

Bertha ! not Bertha ! ’Tis Eva that I love — 

Her. Presumptuous fool 

How dare you lift your thoughts to such a height? 

Otto. To such a height — why is she not thy child 
As well? 

Her. Yes, yes — but she can ne’er be yours 

Dismiss her from your mind at once,*nor change 
A friend into a foe. No matter why ! 

Breathe not a syllable of this again. 


[Horn. 


* 


6 all’s pair in love. 

The Count awaits thee — be advised and dream 
No more of Eva ! leave me — leave me now ! 

Otto. By Cupid, I will strive now I’ve begun, 

They say a battle ’s never lost till won. 

Her. The curse, the clinging curse of early crime, 
Though long repented, will enshroud me ever. 

She comes, the wronged, and yet most loving one — 
Did she but know what cause she has for hate — 

But ’tis such full, though maddening joy, to see 
That stately presence, fated to command, 

Enforced to beautify my abject home — 

The guilty secret must lie buried here ! 

Enter Eva. 

Her. My daughter ! 

Eva. Dear, dear father, you are sad — 

I have not angered you I 

Her. Beloved ! no ! 

Who could be sad that owned the privilege 
To look into those eyes 1 

Eva. The privilege ! 

’Tis a strange word to speak to me. my father ; 

Have I done aught could cause a doubt to rise 
Within your heart that I’m not all thy child ? 
Ungrateful were I, did I not pay back 
Your too much care and love with true devotion. 

Her. Sweet Eva, you are all, and more than all 
A father could desire. Ah ! might I hope 
To balance your deserving with my own, 

Heaven were already reached. 

Eva. You wrong yourself, 

Dear father, in o’erpraising me. W'hate’er 
Of good to me belongs, you first implanted, 

Tenderly nurtured in its early growth, 

And watched with ceaseless care. The flower’s bloom 
Is but assurance of the gardener’s toil. 

Enter Otto. 

Otto. Good Master Hermann, you are waited for. 
Her. I come. Dear Eva, if the certainty 
Of my abundant love can bring thee joy, 

Be happy. Otto, have a care ; remembei 
What I told you. 

Otto. Oh ! good gracious, yes ; 

How beautiful she looks. I’m drinking poison 
With every mouthful of the air she breathes. 

And yet, like an infatuated bird, 

I linger near the lovely snake. 1*11 ask 
Her how she is, there can’t be harm in that. 


[ Exit Otto 


Exit. 


7 


all’s fair in love. 

Ahem! Miss Eva — gracious, there’s an eye ; 

I think I’ll wait. 

Eva. What is it, Otto? 

Otto. [Making an effort.'] Nothing ! out — {horn) 

Eva. [At window.] They’re coming forth, it is a glorious sight, 

And one I love to look upon, the show 
Of gallant horsemen. 

Enter Bertha. 

Bertha. Sister, there you are, 

And looking at these useless articles 
Of household furniture, the men ; for shame ! 

Had I been caught so. you’d have rated soundly. 

Eva. You wrong me, Bertha. I but tend upon 
My favorite flowers. 

Bertha. Which droop for lack of care. 

Look in my face, Eva, I have found you out. 

Nay, never hang your head and blush. I say ’t again. 

I’ve found you out — you are in love! Now, not a word. 

For I am sure of it, so don’t deny it. 

Eva. I can but laugh. 

Bertha. You can’t ; no use to try. 

That’s not a laugh, you’re heart won’t side with you 
In the fib — aye, fib ! for now, I’m more assured 
That I am right. Those cheeks are your accusers, 

Those eyes the counsellors that plead against you. 

[Eva droops her head , Bertha changes her manner to seriousness. 
What! tears ! Forgive me, sweet ! you know for all the w r orld, 

I would not give you real pain. — There, there ! 

Dry up your tears and smile again. I’m sure 
I almost wish I had been stricken dumb, 

Ere my unruly tongue had uttered aught 
To call atsingle sigh from you. 

Eva. Dear sister, let me weep ; for you have forced 
The secret from me in my own despite. 

A secret, which although I knew ’twas here 
Locked up, yet dared not let that knowledge stray 
Into my thought, but hoped that it would lie 
Concealed, e’en where '’twas born and nurtured : 

But no ! for day by day it has increased, 

’Till now, too vast to be enclosed within 
The compass of my heart, it overflows. 

And to my cheek and eyes bears those strong proofs 
That I would fain conceal. 

Bertha. And marry, why 

Should you conceal it, I would like to know l 
For my own part, and now I do not jest, 

I think that love, good comfortable love , 

In the scale of earth’s blessings ranks so high, 

That if all others were bestowed on me 
And that denied, 1 would not care to live. 


(Eva smiles . 


8 


all’s fair in loye. 


I’m glad I made you smile. — Hem ! might I know 
Who the unmannered person is. that gives 
You such unrest — tell me, that I may hate him. 

Do — there’s a sweet — don’t think that I shall blab, 

You know I have discretion. 

Eva. I cannot. 

Bertha. Well, well, I will not press you. {Aside.} I shall die 
If I don’t discover who he is. 

I’ll find it out, or I’m no woman. [Aloud.] See, 

Is not that young Otto ? What has brought him back! 

Eva. I know not. 

Bertha. [Aside.] Tisn’t he! I’m glad of that. 

[Aloud.] Why, what’s the matter 1 Some one’s hurt. 

Eva . Who? — who? 

Bertha. [Aside.] He is amongst those huntsmen, past a doubt. 

Eva. Who is’t that’s hurt ? 

Bertha. Methinks ’tis Hartzman. [Aside.] No. 

[Aloud.] Or Karl, or Marcus — 

It must be the Count. [Partly aside.] 

Eva. [With great agitation.] He! 

Bertha. It is the Count. 

Eva. Oh ! say not that. 

Bertha. Ha ! ha ! 

You little wit to make your tongue be still. 

And not to bind your heart to secrecy. 

That’s mistress o’er your tongue. The Count — oh, Eva! 

You have, indeed, a proper taste. The Count, [Eva is afcelcd . 

And why not he? Have we not often heard 

How noble knights have matched beneath their rank, 

And met with better dowry far than gold 

Or birth could e’er bestow ; e’en truth and love, # 

And both you’re rich in ; therefore, have a heart. 

And do not droop. 

Eva. Your sisterly affection doth o’erpraise 
My poor desert. You have my secret, all, 

Your wit has lured from me, and now I feel 
Such shame as though a guilty fault 
Were in my own despite against me proved. 

Oh! be a generous victor, sister dear, 

And keep imprisoned in your very soul 
The knowledge you have won from me, nor let 
Strange voices whisper that to common ears 
Which my own tongue has never dared to breathe. 

Bertha. I warrant me, you’ll own that I am all 
Discretion. See, where goes our brother Max. 

How like he grows to me ! D’ye know, in jest 

I decked myself up in his page’s gear 

The other day, and made his very counterfeit. 

[Aside.] Ha ! a good thought — my little brain’s at work. 

[Aloud.] Remember now, my secrecy depends 
Upon your cheerfulness ; if you do not smile 


all’s fair in love. 


9 


And let your heart’s content speak in your eyes, 

I’ll reveal all. 

Eva. In mercy, sister, hide within your soul 
That fatal secret. Think what depth of shame 
’Twould be, if ever it should reach his ears. 

What 1 I, the low-born daughter of a serf! 

Such rash, such mad presumption ! He, a Prince 
’Mongst Princes. Blot it from your thought, 

As though my folly ne’er had found a tongue. 

The noblest among the noble. — It was false 
That I told thee, Bertha, so pray heed it not. 

A jest, a simple jest — for Heaven’s grace 
Believe it was a jest. Alas ! I’m sick at heart. 

Bertha. A jest ! A riddle, rather, there’s no need 
Of sapient guessing on my part to solve. 

If I err not, I’ve seen his Oountship’s eye 
Glance stealthily at Eva more than once. 

Max, with your help the certainty I’ll prove 
Of my surmise, or else dispel all doubt. 

A Count ! Why not a Count I In worth and beauty 
She is a mate for any Count that lives. 

Did not Sir Hollo in the ballad, wed 
A village beauty 1 Just to give me heart 
I’ll sing that ballad now. 

Who hath Sir Rollo’s rest undone, 

What richly dower’d dame 1 
The proudest she that ever shone 
Sir Rollo’s birth may claim. 

Some star of high nobility 
All other stars above 
Some mighty Princess sure must be 
Sir Rollo’s ladye love. 

No Princess did Sir Rollo wed, — 

But from a lowly fate, 

A simple village maiden led 
To share his high estate. 

Her dowry was more rich in sooth 
Than wealth or lands could prove, 

’Twas beauty, gentleness, and truth, 

This was Sir Rollo’s love. 

Scene II . — An Apartment in Baron Altenheim's. 

Enter Baron Altenheim and Lady Ida. 

‘ Baron A. Daughter 1 you know I am not one to cross. 

If you would marry wealth, the rich Mynheer 
Brings you the gain of a life’s merchandize, 

But if a noble name affect you more, 

Your other suitor boasts of gentle blood 
That has from age to age — from sire to son, 

Crept on in noble indolence, unmixed 




{Exit Eva. 




10 


all’s fair in love. 


With the alloy of vulgar enterprise. 

What would you have — on one side wealth 
Makes full amends for humble lineage, 

While on the other nobleness of name 
Stands in the lieu of gold. How answer you 1 

Lady Ida. I am your daughter, sir, in more than name. 

Fain would I yield obedience as I ought, 

But somewhat I inherit here, forbids 
Me tamely to endure an injury. 

Baron A. Perverse one, is it not to ’vantage you 
That I am anxious 1 

Lady Ida. So it may be, sir, 

And I am grateful for it : but my heart is free, 

If it must be sold, at least to choose the buyer. 

Baron A. Do you not owe the duty of a child 
Twice told, to me, your only parent now ] 

Be warned, and quickly make your own decision 
Or I will make it for you, — and, mayhap, 

If in the ill there be comparison, 

I may not light upon the better one. [Exit 

Lady Ida. Why will my father thus for ever try 
To goad me into disobedience 1 
1 am not weary of a single life : 

But how to baffle those' untiring swains, 

That will not take denial from my lips 1 
They will be here anon ; yet no excuse 
Have I at hand — in time Katrina comes — 

Enter Katrina. 

Katrina, pity me ! 

Katrina. Why, bless me, what has happened ? 

Lady Ida. Oh, I am pestered past endurance 
By those suitors, who, day after day come here 
To seek my hand. 

Katrina. Good gracious, is that all ! 

I thought some ill had fallen. 

Lady Ida. Is not that 

An ill 1 

Katrina. Not to my thinking, Madame. 

Lady Ida. What 1 

Would you, Katrina, like to have your ears 
Assailed by love speeches from morn to night 1 

Katrina. W T ere I compelled to speak my°reai thought, 

I do believe, almost, I think 1 would. 

Most people do like that they have a lack of. 

Were you without a lover now, you’d jump 
At the first— nor think a score too many. 

Lady Ida. I will not argue that ; suffice to sav, 

I do not like them. 

Katrina. I can tell you why ; 


all’s fair in love. 


n 


Because the right one has not shown his face. 

Let him arrive, you’ll change your note, I’ll bet 
My chance ot a husband, though the wager's small. 

Enter Kkabb. 

Krabb. Please you, my lady, the Chevalier Beaugargon. 

You needn’t hurry to receive him, for, to say the 
Truth, he is, as it wefe, detained. 

Lady Ida. How, pray ? 

Krabb. Marry, an unmerciful varlet, they do call Lumbago, has taken 
fast hold of his lordship’s back. He said it had been a nibbling of his 
joints all the morning -, but, as he stooped forward to dismount, egad it 
tairly bestrode his lordship, and no persuasion could dislodge it. ’Twas 
pitiful to see how he did grin with pain, and what a letter S he looked 
like. Marry, I did laugh prodigiously, but it was pitiful. 

Katrina. Where is he now I 

Krabb. Making his congee to the kitchen fire, where one is rubbing 
of his back most lustily. Tis curious to hear how he miscalls his aches, 
for ever as the fiend doth grip him, he groans out — “ Oh ! oh ! these 
“ growing pains, these cursed growing pains ! Tell not your mistress 
“ this, or she may think me not past boyhood yet — these growing pains 
“ —oh ! oh !” 

Ida. Is’t not enough to anger one to hear 
Of this old dotard and his growing pains 1 
I will not be thus baited, Katrina. 

Answer him as you may, but let me not 
Be vexed by him. 

Katrina. The merchant, tool 

Ida. Aye, both ! 

Katrina. We have your warrant to do as we please. 

Ida. E’en as you list, so I be not annoyed. [Exit Ida. 

Katrina. Now. from this moment, I begin to live. 

To cozen suitors is the vital air 
Of confidantes. — Come hither, Krabb ; 

Why what hath printed such a lengthy page 
Of gravity upon thy countenance ? 

Krabb. Truly I am in cogitation : indeed, I may say in abstruse re- 
flection. 

Katrina. Make me acquainted with your abstruseness. 

Krabb. Mistress Katrina, it hath often struck me that your sensible 
human creature is the only animal that will complacently stalk into 
jeopardy. Dost think a politic rat, would, for the daintiest cheese-rind, 
peril his grave whiskers within the compass of a trap, knowing that 
same to be a place of tribulation 1 No ! nor will your reflective mouse 
walk, open-eyed, into the jaws of Madam Puss, purr she ever so in- 
vitingly. * 

Katrina. To what does your argument tend 1 

Krabb. Marry ! to this — that if your sensible rat eschew traps, and 
your mouse, Grimalkin’s courtesy, I marvel much that man, the monopo- 
lizer of wit, will f unschooled by example, thrust his neck into the life- 


12 


all’s fair in love. 


yoke of matrimony. Now, here’s old Lumbago, mercy o’me ! he must 
come a wife-hunting, notwithstanding that Monsieur Sciatica has tap- 
ped him o’ the shoulder, and whispered in his ear “ Death’s a-coming !’* 
Not content with Mistress Lumbago’s loving caresses, he must needs 
dip again in the lottery of plagues. There’s the Mynheer, too — and 
there’s young Karl — and Otto — and 

Katrina. Hold your profane tongue ! Would you deny the blessing 
of honest love to all ages 1 

Krabb. That would I, to all sects, sexes, and ages ! There would 
then be a deal of time profitably employed that’s now all eaten up with 
sigh-pumping, and hair-twisting, and face-making, foolishly pitting 
earthly art against heavenly nature — not to mention days and nights 
devoured in the concocting of lame acrostics, where every letter of some 
innocent name stands like a shamefaced corporal heading an ill-con- 
ditioned line. Oh ! ’tis a villainous misusing of our scant breath. 

Katrina. How long has this been your religion] You must have 
had most sudden conversion, as ’twas only yesternoon you went down 
plump upon your knees and implored pity of me. 

Krabb. Ah ! that is mine own private matter. If I am unable to re- 
sist the temptation, it only argues your perfectness and my lack of 
philosophy. 

Katrina. Well reasoned — and in the world’s tone — condemn that'in 
others you can find excuse for in yourself 

Krabb. What say’st thou to a league against all comers ] Your an- 
tique love-maker doth carry Cupid in his purse — a heavy weight for one 
infirm— ’twere but a proper pity to relieve him of his load. Wilt, enter- 
tain it ] 

Katrina. Mercy doth become our nature — therefore — yes ! 

Krabb. Agreed. So thus let us make covenant. [Kisses Katrina.] 
And now, kind fate, like bagpipes fill them with a mighty blast of love, 
that we may finger them to whatsoever tune we please. 

[ Exeunt Krabb and Katrina. 


ACT II. 

Scene I. — Octagonal Chamber in Count Ltndorff’s Castle, hunting im- 
plements hung about the icalls, large stag's head and antlers, <$fC., large 
open door in centre , Otto and other Huntsmen pass across. 

Enter Hermann, who divests himself of Hawking gear, <£c. 

Her. Away with you, and wait some other whim, 

Though what it may be now, exceeds my thought, 

Perhaps to man a ship and search for whales, 

Those sudden changes have a touch of lunacy : 

The hunt dismissed, or ever we had mounted, 

The hawkipg stayed before a bird had risen, 

The Count himself with sometimes a feigned show 
Of reckless gaiety, in mad career, 

At others, riding moodily alone, 

His head sunk on his breast, there’s something toward, 

For once or twice he reined up by ir / side, 


all’s fair in love. 


13 


And seemed as though he fain would talk with me, 

But lacked the courage ; then with scornful laugh 
Sped onward. — Ah ! he comes : I marvel much 
What mood is topmost now. 

Enter Count Lindorff and Sir Roland. 

Count L. ’Tis ever thus, 

The birds were all at fault. 

Rol. Thev were, I know. 

Count L. The hawking marred by their impatience only. 

Rol. Marred, past all doubting. 

Count L. I shall get rid of them, and find me better. 

Her. My lord, you could not, search the country round, 

Find hawks of purer blood, or better trained ; 

Sir Roland, here, who is good judge, can testify 
My words are true. 

Rol. Indeed, the birds are good. 

Count L. But past their usefulness. 

Rol. The hawks are old. 

Her. Just the fit age, so please you, for their work. 

My gracious lord. 

* Rol. 1 think so, to an hour. 

Count L. Well, well, the day’s unpromising! 

Rol. ’Twill rain 

Ere long. 

Her. The sky don’t own a cloud. 

Rol. That’s true, 

But still 

Count L. The heat’s oppressive. 

Rol. ’Tis the very word 

I would have spoken. 

Her. There’s a brisk air stirring. 

Rol. Brisk and bracing; just the time to hunt. 

Count L. I fancy not. 

Rol. On second thoughts, nor I. 

It is too 

Count L. Sultry. 

Her. Chilly. 

Rol. Both, in my opinion. 

Count L. Ha ! ha ! that’s scarcely a wise answer, Roland. 

Rol. Well, it was foolish, now I think again. 

Count L. Hermann, bid Max attend me here — no, stay, 

Get me my fishing gear, the time’s propitious 

For that sport. [Exit Hermann. 

Rol. You could not find a better. 

Count L. I’m glad I thought of that, ’twill occupy 
My mind, at least. 

Rol. It is a noble pastime. 

Count L. And yet a barbarous. 

Rol. Upon reflection, cruel 


14 


all’s FA IU IN LOVE. 


In the extreme. 

Count L. And still we follow but the laws of evil, 
Tempting through appetite, the means we use. 

Hiding the barb within a dainty bait 
Resembles, though in lesser sort, the thousand snares 
Of pleasure, profit, fame, that the invisible 
Soul-angler decks his greedy hook withal, 

And few there are in this vast world of ours 

Who. though with reason gifted, by experience warned, 

Can yet withstand temptation’s specious lure. 

Rol. I am not one ; my maxim is to take 
Whatever chances on the road of life ; 

When the sun shines to bask within its beams : 

And when it storms, to house me if I can. 

Enter Hermann. 

Her. Your will’s obeyed, my lord. 

Count L. No matter now, 

Good Hermann, I have changed my mind. 

Her. Again] 

Count L. I shall remain at home to-day. 

Rol. And so shall I. 

Count L. Let Max attend me. 

Enter Bertha, as Page. 

Ber. He is here, my lord. 

Count L. Retire awhile. 

Ber. He knows me not, thank fortune. 

Count L. How shall I rid me of this mindless shadow, 
Roland, I have some business with my page 
Of urgent moment. 

Rol. Faith, I thought as much — 

Go on, I pray, and take no heed of me. 

Count L. ’Tis of a private nature. 

Rol. So I judged — 

Well, I can be as secret as a dog. 

Count L. Hints pierce not his impenetrable hide, 

I must e’en saddle his peculiar whim, 

And let him ride it as I point the road. 

Roland, you’re looking ill to-day. 

Rol. No wonder, 

For I suffer much. 

Count L. There is a tired expression 
In your face. 

Rol. That’s it — fatigue is killing me. 

Count L. You need repose. 

Rol. I do. 

Count L. An hour’s sleep ! 

Rol. That ’s just the thing I was about to do. 

How strange that you should know my very thought ; 


all’s fair in love. 


15 


But there *s a sympathy between true friends — 

1 think if you’ll excuse me, I’ll lie down 
For an hour or so. 

Count L. Pray, make jmurself at home. 

Rol. I will, and thank you for the privilege. [Exit Roland. 

Count L. Alone ! ah. what delight to be alone — 

Yet not alone, for her sweet image, 

So surpassing fair, fills up the vacant space 
Heaven full, and peoples it with angel forms ! 

And she ’s a serf — such beauty, grace, and virtue, 

Waslefully lavished on a mean estate, 

As would enrich the very loftiest — 

Yet wherefore should I deem her humble birth 
And low condition unsurmountable. 

Snow-walls, around the citadel of pride. 

That the first sun-burst of true love dissolves 
How most unworthy is this captious doubt 
And coward hesitation ; what to me 
The shrugs and whispers, or the mocking taunts 
Of mere rank-worshippers ? they can but tread 
The outer margin of that mystic circle 
A union of congenial souls draws round 
The life of life. — I am resolved — ho ! Max ! 

Come hither, boy — now sinks my heart again, 

For pride has donned once more its iron armor, 

Weighing it down. Am I deceived or not? 

Do I interpret rightly what my soul 
Alone has spoken ? I had best be sure — 

Or worse than all, should she contemn the gift 
That I would proffer ! — or has she bestowed 
The treasure of her love on some mean hind ! 

That thought is torture ! [Sees Max ] Ha ! what sent you here ? 

What have you overheard 1 

Bertha. Nothing, my lord, 

That I can understand. 

Count L. Thine ’s a shrewd wit, I know. 

Bertha. Your lordship’s pleased 

To over corppliment your humble servant: 

Truly, I make the little sense I have 
Stretch out as far as it will safely go, 

Always within the limit of my duty. 

If ever I have been too sharp of tongue, 

I pray your lordship pardon me, for now 
I lack the heart to fashion my rough words, 

To any point beyond pure melancholy. 

Count L. Why what a dark and sudden cloud is here — 

This gloom is hardly real, for your eyes 

And tongue have made an interchange of duty — 

The one speaks tears, at which the others laugh. 

Bertha. Which plainly shows that each bewildered sense, 

Scarce knows its proper channel. My poor sister! 


1G 


all’s fair in love. 


Count'll. What has befallen her ? 

Bertha. My lord, I’ve two ! 

Count L. Yes — yes, I know, go on — which sister, boy? 
Bertha. Sweet pensive Eva. 

Count L. Is she ill ? 

Bertha. At heart — 

My lord, to say the truth, I do believe 
The lackwit hath permitted love to steal 
Her smiles away. 

Count L. Why guess you thus ? 

Bertha. In sooth, 

From the report of mine own observation — 

Why does she keep herself close prisoner 
Within her chamber, letting none come near ? 

Except, that, having not the company 
She most desires, she fain would sigh alone ? 

Again, why does she eat so little, and speak less, 

Are they not signs of this most dire complaint ? 

Why prides she not in her attire, as once ? 

A fatal symptom in a pretty maid. 

"VVhy does she take no heed of circumstance, 

But live a sort of temporary life, 

As though her heart had in her own despite 
Played truant, and she little recked to have 
The wanderer back ? oh, I’m a very dunce 
Or this is love, stark love, most foolish love. 

Count L. Who is the object, know you, that has wrought 
This sudden change ? 

Bertha. I know him but by guess — 

A man of fair repute. 

Count A. How is he called ? 

Bertha. Of goodly substance ; aye. and comely, too. 

He is a huntsman in your lordship’s train. 

Count A. A huntsman ! 

Bertha. [ Aside .] If there be the smallest spark 
Alive, it shan’t expire for want of fuel. 

Count A. Does she encourage his presumption ! 

Bertha. Wherefore not? 

Surely, your lordship would not interpose 
To mar the happiness of two young hearts ? 

Oh ! ’twould be cruelty. 

Count A. She loves him, then? 

Bertha. As surely as I hope to be a man ! 

So surely do I think she doats on him. 

If this be so, my lord, you’ll not refuse 
Your sanction to my sister's choice ? For tho’ 

She is as far above him in desert 
As she excels in beauty, is it not 
A nobler act to raise than to pull down ? 

Count A. It shall not be. I do forbid this hind 


17 


all’s fair in love. 

To wed thy sister. She should look higher far 
Than this fool, Otto. [Bertha starts 

Guessed I not the name ! 

Bertha. No, no, 

My lord, not Otto. Oh ! what have I done 7 
As I do live, my noble lord, thou’rt wrong. 

Count A. How now 1 — what means this agitation, boy 1 
Bertha. Simply, my lord, the fear of your displeasure 
Alighting, where ’tis not deserved — on Otto’s head. 

Count A. Thou’rt not to blame — ’tis I that am distraught, 

Fooled by a shadow of mine own conceit. 

Bertha. [Aside.] Now, Master Cupid, that I’ve help’d thee o’er 
The barrier Pride placed within his heart 
To stop thy entrance — make thy footing sure. 

Count A. It must be so — there is no other way 
To warp my soul from this untoward love. 

[Sits and writes — speaking at intervals . 
I cannot offer her an untouched heart — 

’Twill be a toil to render the affection 
Due to a wife — yet will I toil, and thus 
Rub out the traces of my disappointment 
By continued action ; — there, the die is cast. 

See this delivered, Max, and bring me here 
The answer. If it be propitious — I — 

Away at once, or else my mind may change. [Exit. 

Bertha. That will I, as I know full well for whom 
fTis penned ; dear sister, for thy sake I kiss 
This tell-tale writing — What’s this ?— Not to her ? 

Addressed, not to my sister ! How came it thus 1 
“ To the Lady Ida of Altenheim.” 

And I have done this — I have turned the stream 
Of his true love into another channel ! 

What’s to be done 7 I needs must take this thing, 

The which if she, with kindness, do receive 
(And who would not 7 ) — my sister is undone. 

Oh ! woman’s wit, assist me with a way 

To right this fault — I’ll ne’er tempt fate again ! [Exit. 

S^ene II. — Apartment at Baron Altenheim’s. 

Enter Katrina and Krabb, meeting. 

Krabh. [Laughing.] Ha! ha! ha! I must laugh — he’s coming — his 
lumbagoed lordship is coming — in most constrained straightness. 
There’s a goodly strife for precedence ’twixt his back and chin. — Pride 
supports the one, Sciatica the other; — ’twill take a good strong former 
to keep the latter down. Now for our vocation. 

Enter Chevalier Beaugarqon. 

Chev. B. Ha ! ye satellites of that most glorious orb, 

Fixed star of my affections — central sun 


I 


18 all’s fair in love. 

Of my revolving tnoughts, give ye good day. 

Katrina. We give you thanks, good sir. [Beauoarcjon gives money 
to her.] — Sweet sir ! 

Krabb. Young sir 1 

Katrina. We did but just now praise to our lady your fine stateliness 
of form. 

Krabb. I gave my mistress to know with what youthful ardor you 
galloped into the courtyard, and with what a graceful ease you did dis- 
mount. 

Chcv. B. Truly, I bear my years with curious grace 
You’d scarcely guess how very old I am 
By mere chronology ; but here’s the dial 
Marks a man’s real age — the youthful heart 
That wrinkles not, — mine is a boy’s, a child’s. 

Krabb. [Aside.] Yes, of the second growth. 

Chev. B. Look at this hand — 

There’s steadiness of nerve. — It shakes a little 
Now : I’ll tell you why — between ourselves : 

With some young bloods I held carouse last night 
Until the morning shamed us to our beds. 

Just kissed my pillow, and then out again ; 

My common habit, yet it nothing hurts me. 

Mark you the value of your middle age, 

When to good training joined, and buoyant health 
I live through that would kill a score of youngsters, 

I see them day by day drop thickly round 
Like unripe fruit, weak-stemmed and immature, 

Sinking beneath the shower that makes us stronger. 

But tell me — have I hope in this my suit 1 
What says your mistress 1 Speaks she of me 1 
Katrina. Yes, sir. 

Chev. B. Often 1 
Krabb. Very often 
Chev. B. In strong terms 1 
Krabb. Strong. 

Chev. B. I’d have it so. I cannot be content, 

As others are, with small amount of love. 

I would be doated on. — Dost think* she doats ! 

Krabb. Not yet — not yet — but thou dost, Old Time in 
A pinafore. 

Katrina. [Aside to Krabb ] You’ll anger him, and wc shall lose by 
that. 

Krabb. [To her.] Bless you, he hears me not — it takes a sturdy 
sound to batter at his ear-porch and get in — age has clapped a sentinel 
there to drive away whispers. 

Chev. B. Where lingers now the sunshine of my soul! 

Must the dark shadow of her chamber door, 

Eclipsing her bright image, interpose 
Its envious bar to my adoring eyes. 

Katrina . Sir, in plain speaking, that it must, it is, 


ALL S FAIR IN LOVE. 


19 


As you perceive, an unbecoming day, therefore 
My mistress will not tempt comparison. 

Chcv. B. Left she no gracious message, or love-speech 
Ambiguously to be delivered ! 

Krabb. Yes ; this is for thine own ear — she did say, that truly 
She doth affect thee greatly — but having another suitor 
To wit, the Dutch Mynheer. 

Chev. B. He 1 an old dotard ! 

Krabb. Her very words. 

Chev. B. Did she say so 1 He doth deserve the name, 

And richly too ; how dare the fool presume 
To come a suitoring 1 He’s old, too old. 

Krabb. Truly he hath experience, and comes a-wooing 
In the properest way to win : he gave us 
Twenty crowns to cozen thee. 

Chev. B. Dishonest varlet ! undermining rogue ! 

I’ll give you forty if you cozen him. 

Krabb. Ought we to take this, Katrina 1 
Katrina. ’Tis doubtful, Krabb. 

Krabb. ’Tis to do our lady a kindness, so we’ll not refuse. 

Chev. B. Thou’lt promise that he shall be cozened 1 
Krabb. Most diligently ; we ne’er take payment for a thing 
And do it not. 

Katrina. I hope we have more honor. 

Chev. B. Good ! good ! How I shall laugh when he doth find 
I have outbidden him. Ha ! ha ! — oh ! oh 1 these growing pains. 

They do so seize me o’ the sudden. 

Krabb. And as I live, this w'ay the merchant comes. 

Chev. B. Does he 1 I’m glad on’t — now will I revenge 
My wrongs upon my rival’s head. 

Katrina. No, no ! 

Not for the world. I pray thee leave us now ; 

For did my lady aught of brawling hear 
’Twould end all hope. 

Chev. B. Nay, let me have a bout 
With him, at carte and tierce ; methinks, I could 
Enfranchise his presumptuous soul, for I 
Am skill’d in fence, and all my youthful blood 
Fires at the thought. 

Krabb. Nay, nay, put up thy sword — it would be a pity to 
Sully it with his poor 

Puddle blood. There, be advised and go— 

’Tis for thy advantage. 

Chev. B. Nay, but a pass or two ! 

Krabb. Not one. 

Restrain thy impetuous ardor — take counsel and go. 

Chev. j 6. I'll slay him in the very street. 

[Katrina and Krabb hustle off Beaugarsont 
Krabb. Do, do — if you can catch him, 

Most courageous Sciatica — ha ! ha ! Now for the merchant. 


20 


all’s fair in love. 


JEnier Mynheer Yon Groshen. 

Myn. Ha ! ha ! my little Krabb, how dost’ee, lad 1 
Come, tell me the news, and if there’s any hope. 

How fares my lady-bird I Did you deliver, 

In due form, my last consignment to,her 1 
How did she receive it 1 — and what answer 
Made she 1 Has that attenuated scrap 
Of monkeyfied humanity, my Lord Parleyvoo, 

Been here, with apish tricks 

And foolish words, to give her a distaste 

For anything past forty ? Answer quickly, 

And truly too, or else i’ll cudgel thee. 

Krabb. I will essay, tho’ ’tis no easy task 
To give a true response to every item. 

First, I think you asked about my health — 

Truly, of late, that hath been precarious, 

And there are many reasons — first 

Myn. Zounds ! I don’t want to know about your health. 

Krabb. You asked — by Katrina I’ll be judged. 

Besides, sir, you did promise me a taste 
Of your Dutch cudgel, answered I not truly. 

And, sooth to say, I am not overpartial 

To the flavor on’t — but for your next 

Inquiry — you would know how fares my lady, — 

Upon the best with slender appetite 

Then for your love epistle — that, be sure, _ 

Most confidentially I did deliver. 

Katrina. And I can tell you, sir, ’twas gently used, 

For, with her own fair hand, she did divide 
The sheet into a number of small squares, 

Each several one of which did soon 
A lock of her bright hair imprison ; 

So you may safely say unto yourself 
With an allowable exaggeration, 

Your loving letter turned the lady’s head. 

Myn. But I intended it should touch her heart, 

Not ornament the outside of her head. 

Katrina. You call yourself a lover , and talk sol 
Think what it is, to even have the scrap 
Of senseless paper you have writ upon. 

Grasping her lovely hair, and pressing ’gainst 
Her marble forehead as she lies in sleep ! 

If thou wert really a lover, such 
A thought- would be thy food for many a week. 

Myn Oh ! but I yearn for more substantial fare, 

Nor vyill I be put oft' at second hand. 

By yea and nay, I care not who doth know it, 

I covet such caresses for myself. 

What care I for the letter, once ’tis read! 

Have you no answer for me 1 


all’s fair in love. 


21 


Katrina. Insatiate individual, what would you have 1 
Did she not put thy letter to good use! 

Thus telling thee, as plainly as signs speak, 

To draw a great encouragement therefrom? 

Myn. I cannot dive so far into conclusions, 

Converse in signs, or take advice from hints :* 

I am a plain man, plain in my speech, and want 
Plain answering. Say, can I see your lady! 

Krabb. No. 

The outworks are not carried, yet you’d storm 
The very citadel. 

Myn. Riddles again ! What mean you now ! 

Krabb. The Chevalier Beaugarcon has been here. 

Myn. Well? 

Krabb. He knows the proper way to woo, 

His money sticks not in his purse. 

Myn. Ho ! ho ! he’s bribed you. 

Krabb. He’s purchased our alliance — that’s the way 
To put it, sir. Your true diplomatist, 

If he cannot procure co-operation, 

Takes special care to buy neutrality ; 

And, for forty crowns, we both stand pledged 
To have deaf ear to any name but his. 

Myn. The cozening knave, the circumventing shrimp ! 

I am not fond of laying out, but I 

Will give you twice forty if you’ll promise me 

The Chevalier shall be .fobbed off himself. 

Krabb. Would it be honest, think you, sir, in us, 

Having already taken earnest of 
The Chevalier’s liberality, to let 
"Vile lucre tempt us! 

Myn. Why, it was worse in him 
To try to win by such dishonest means. 

Krabb. That has subdued us, sir, we’re yours. 

Myn. Then here, [ Gives purse] thou wilt be sure. 
Krabb. I have a conscience, sir ; 

No man shall ever say of me, I took 
His money, and yet earned it not. 

Kat. Was not that 

My lady? Yes, I’m sure it was, and in 
Ill-humor — I’ll swear by her voice. 

Don’t let her see you in this ruffled mood, 

Or it might jeopardize your suit. 

Myn. Why not ? 

Krabb. Pray, sir, begone ; you know not what a chance 
You throw away by thus remaining. 

Myn. But 

Katrina. Don’t stay to argue. Be advised 
And go. 

Myn. I don’t hear her coming. 

Katrina. Mercy on us ! 


22 


all’s fair in love. 


There! — did’st not hear that? 

Myn. Not I, i’ faith. 

Krabb. Hush ! 

Not so loud. Come on the morrow. 

Myn. Zounds! 

Katrina. If she hears you swear, you’re lost. 

Krabb. We must 

E’en gently force you out, since it is for 
Your ultimate advantage. 

[Katrina and Krabb hurry him off \ then return laughing . 
Krabb. This love making is a sad expensive trade, Katrina. 

CURTAIN. 

ACT III. 

Scene I. — Same as Act I. Sdene I. 

Enter Bertha with letter. 

Bertha. Oh ! thou unlucky and pernicious scrap ; 

Oh ! thou most pestilent and senseless atom, 

That with a goose quill scratched, has now become 
A thing of doom, and most unlucky I, 

That cannot tell the fate lies hidden here. 

The worst is I must take it, or the blame 
And heavy punishment will fall on thee, 

My innocent brother. Would I had never thought 
To help the fortune, which I have but marred 

By my untimely interference. [Noise without. 

What tumult’s this 1 some accident has fallen 

Alas ! it is my father, borne along 

Bleeding and hurt, and yet I dare not meet him, 

While thus attired. [Exit into room. 

Enter Eva meeting Otto. 

Eva. Good Otto, whence these cries? 

Otto. Dear Mistress Eva, pray be not alarmed, 

I hurried on before ; oh ! would some other tongue 
Than mine were here to tell the rest — I cannot. 

Eva. Speak ! what has happened? Words cannot be worse 
Than the dumb terror printed on your face. 

Otto. Our good friend Hermann. 

Eva. Ah ! my father — killed ! 

Otto. Kind Heaven forbid ! No, greatly bruised at most, 

Flung from a restive horse that he would back, 

To tame his fiery spirit ere the Count 
Bestrode him, and for this devotedness 

Is paid with aching bones. [Hermann assisted in, 

Eva. My dear, dear father ! 

Speak to me, speak!— oh ! this is terrible ! 

His eyes are dimmed, his hands are icy cold, 


23 


all’s fair in love. 

He scarcely breathes : has some one gone for aid 1 
Thank Heaven ! he moves : dear father, I am here, 

Close to your side ; could I but hear your voice ! 

To see you suffer thus, and I without 
The knowledge or the means to give relief, 

Is torture. 

Her. Eva? 

Eva. Here, my father, here ! 

How fare you now, sir 1 Oh ! you’re sadly hurt ! 

Her. It may be to the death, and better thus, perhaps, 

Than linger here ; but I have that to say. 

Or hope may never dawn upon my soul, 

Which must outstrip the messenger of fate. 

Leave us good friends, awhile, the shock has passed. 

[Exeunt all but Hermann and Eva. 

Her. Are we alone, dear Eva 1 

Eva. Yes, my father. 

Her. No, no ! I must not hear that name, again. 

Eva. , Alas I 

His sense is wandering. 

Her. Stay Eva, stay ! 

And hear me. This is no delirium, 

Yet a fierce, soul-pang that torments me more 
Than mortal anguish ; and whate’er my doom, 

Be it to die or live, I must reveal 

The guilty secret but too long concealed ! 

A secret, Eva, which will change the love 
And honor you have ever borne for me, 

Into contempt and hate ! 

Eva. Ah ! never, never ! 

Her. Not when I tell you they were won by stealth ! 

Filched from the rightful owner, and usurped 
Most impudently ! 

Eva. Heaven avert this frenzy ! 

Her. It is the truth ! — the unavailing truth — 

Not frenzy, but the fear-extorted truth ! 

Tardy contrition ! and the hopeless hope 
To lessen the vast burthen that my soul 

Takes with it. Eva, I am not your father ! [Eva starts. 

Well may you start and look aghast 1 

But check reproach ’till you have learnt all. 

In childhood you were trusted to the care 
Of my lost wife, who at the same time nursed 
A daughter, so like you, it was a marvel 
Even to ourselves. One fatal day, 

Your mother came, and on my daughter lavished 
All her tenderness. From that time forth, 

By bad ambition urged we helped the cheat, 

Until, in lieu of thee, my child went forth, 

To deck, as I, in my blind folly thought, 


4 


24 


all’s fair in love. 

A noble station ; but just Heaven avenged 
The wrong — she died in girlhood. 

Eva. Be this true, 

Or the confusion of a pain racked mind, 

As most I judge, let it be secret still. 

The parent, you have ever been — be yet, 

The gentle counsellor and constant guide. 

I’m still your daughter — for no trick of fate 
Can rob thee of my heart’s respect and love ! 

Her. Most injured one, your very excellence 
Enforces me to this last act of justice — 

Your nobleness of nature is not strange 
Unto your state, for you are nobly born ! 

Eva. My father? 

Her. Is the Baron Altenheim ! — 

The child he lost and mourned was mine ! 

You, his — so near him — often seen by him ; 

Oft noticed and caressed and yet unknown. 

Now all is told. I dare not lift my eyes — 

Can you forgive me for the wasted years, 

And pleasures lost, that circle high estate 1 

Eva. Nay, rather bless thee ! for my pleasures found, 

And years remembered but as happy hours ! 

Her. I could have borne reproaches, looked for them — 

But this great kindness only feeds remorse. 

No more — I pray you speak no more — where are they 1 
Let them come near and bear me to my chamber. 

[Eva motions to Otto and Huntsmen, who enter and bear off Her- 
mann. 

Eva. In one short moment what a startling change — 

I am his equal then, in birth, his equal — 

Back, back, presumptuous thought, and in the heart 
That dared to send thee forth, lie closely prisoned, 

Although thy dungeon be thy grave as well 

Enter Otto. t 

Good Otto is there hope 1 

Otto. Sweet mistress Eva ! 

There is more than hope — full certainty 
That he will long outlive his hurts — 

The leech is with him, and his words I echo. 

I knew ’twould pleasure you to hear of this — 

So came at once. 

Eva. [ Shaking hands. ] I thank you, good kind friend ! 

Otto. I‘ve touched her hand, and I’m all fire and ice, 

From top to toe — she called me her kind friend ! 

There’s no one near, such opportunity 
Might never chance again — I’ll take advantage 
Of the present, and find out at once 
If there’s a spark of hope, it may enkindle ! 

Ah ! sweet mistress Eva ! 


25 


all’s fair in love. 

Eva. Otto, you here still 1 

Otto. Yes — no! I’m going now — I’m gone — goodbye! [Exit Otto. 

{Eva regards him. with astonishment. — Scene closes , tf-c. 

Scene II, — A chamber at Baron Altenheim’s — Katrina enters cau- 
tiously, goes to opposite icing and calls. 

Kat. Krabb ! 

Enter Krabb. 

Hast seen the Dutchman 1 
Krabb. Aye, and sent him off 
In a fool’s paradise enwrapped, crammed full 
Of hope, and all agog for enterprise. 

Kat. And Sir Sciatica 1 
Krabb. Now waits his turn — 

It’s hardly worth one’s while to cozen them ; 

The grossest coinage of a lie suffices 
I’ll bring his lordship. 

Kat. I’ll give him his cue. 

I dearly love to tickle these old trout — 

To bob the fly before their antique jaws. 

And watch ’em nibble at it — here he comes. 

Enter Krabb conducting Beaugarson. Krabb approaches Katrina as 
though he supposed it was Lady Ida. 

Krabb. Please you, my lady, here’s the Chevalier, 

To tender you his thanks for thy sweet message 
Kat. How! 

Krabb. Law ! look you there, now — why, ’tis Katrina ! 

I thought it was my lady. — What a cheat ! 

Chev. B . Well, so it is ! — and such a flusterment 
As I’ve been in for nothing ; — ’pon my life 
I never felt so frightened, since at school 
I bungled at three syllables, with sure 
Anticipation of the rod. 

Krabb. Is my lady absent, Katrina ! 

Katrina. Why, don’t you see she is! 

Chev. B. I’m glad of that ; — I would not see her now, 

While this loud-ticking heart of mine doth beat 
My coward ribs. 

Krabb. Left she no message for us! 

Katrina. What’s that to thee? [To BeaugArqon.J She has, but 
such a one 

As ’twere high -treason ’gainst true love to breathe 
In any ears but thine. 

Chev. B. Nay, say’st thou so ! 

Krabb, my good lad, retire — I want some talk 
With Katrina alone ! alone ! do’st hear ! — Alone ! 

Krabb. I hear, most noble — [Lowering his voice ] — piece of puffed-up 
froth, 


[Exit Krabb. 
herself. 


26 


all’s fair in love. 


Antique youth, and wire-drawn agility. [Bows with mock reverence. 
Chev. B. Enough of compliment, — Begone ! 

[Krabb and Katrina exchange glances. — Exit Krabb. 
Chev. B. And, now, 

Sweet Katrina, for thy enchanting lay, 

More ravishing to my expectant ears 
Than songs of Sirens or Arcadian pipes, 

Or all the music of the voiceful skies 
When feathered choirs, in emulation, strain 
Their swelling throats to hail the birth of Spring. 

Katrina. Well may’st thou be enraptured : — listen! — Stay — 

Be sure there’s no one near — [Looks cautiously around — mysteriously .j 
The merchant’s lost ! 

His heart returned upon his hands as useless ware, 

Himself and his Dutch courtesy pack’d up 
And sent, perchance, to furnish speculation 
To the scared natives of some Flemish dyke. 

Chev. B. We've conquered. — Hem ! I knew it would be so— 

How could’t be otherwise 1 The gross Flemish boor, 

To dare contend with me, in lists of love ! 

Proceed ! — Proceed ! 

Katrina. Her father still affects the Dutchman. 

Chev. B. Her father ! Pooh ! Who cares what he affects ? 

Is’t not into a sort of proverb grown. 

That fathers will run counter to young hearts 
When they do throb in unison 1 We’ll cheat him, 

Katrina, we’ll run away with her. 

Katrina. The very thing — the time, to-morrow night.— 

One will be watching for thee here — thou canst 
Not guess the one. 

Chev. B. Oh, yes, I can ! — Thou jade — 

Thou capital, cozening jade ! 

Katrina. You flatter, sir. 

Chev. B. No, no. — To-morrow night ? 

Katrina. As near to ten as you can come ; 

We’ll find you a disguise. 

Chev. B. My ardent soul rejoices in the thought 
To-morrow night. — Oh ! for to-morrow night ! 

Kind Phaeton, snatch thy father’s reins again 
And lash along the lazy-moving sun ! 

To-morrow night ! ’Twill be a year — an age 
Until it come. 

Katrina. Take my advice : — go home 
And call on sleep — a better charioteer 
Than any of your heathens, to drive time. 

Chev. B. Sleep ! dost thou think that sleep shall dare 
To kill one moment of the intervening space, 

So full of precious expectation ? No ! 

I’ll wander forth — and in the cold moon’s ray, 

My youthful ardor for a time allay. [Exit Beaugarson, Katrina laughs. 


all’s fair in love. 


27 


Enter Lady Ida. 

Katrina. Pardon, my lady, this unruly mirth, 

But both your suitors have been here, and both 
Most exemplary swains. You should have seen 
With what a pious indignation each 
Did, in his turn, elevate his eyes 
At t’other’s knavery ; how, in a breath 
The act was scouted, and the bribe bestowed. 

I’ve heard of such convenient consciences, 

But never put them to the proof before. 

Lady Ida. Oh, Katrina, this hollow world teems 
W T ith such as those — self-flatterers who think 
That to discover vice in others is 
To prove themselves most virtuous. 

Enter Krabb. 

Krabb. A messenger 
My lady, from Count LindorfL 

Lady Ida. Let him be admitted. [ Exit Krabb and Katrina. 

From Count Lindorff ! Now, kind fate, 

Forbid another plague in suitor shape. 

Enter Bertha, as a Page. 

Advance, young sir ; what is thy master’s suit? 

Bertha. A love suit, lady. 

Lady Ida. And to me ? 

Bertha. To thee. 

Lady Ida. He dares not. 

Bertha. Yes, he dares. 

Lady Ida. Thou’rt saucy, sir. 

Bertha. Nay, ’tis the simple truth, sweet lady ; here’s 
The proof. [ Gives letter — Ida takes and reads it. 

Smooth introduction, that, methinks. 

[Aside, watching Lady Ida.] She reads ! 

Now, fortune — ha ! the color mounts 
Into her very brow, she’s in a rage — 

A hearty rage, and chafes at every word. 

How her lips quiver, and her eyes dilate 

With scorn. Were she a man, now, how she’d swear ! 

Lady Ida. Impertinent I 

Bertha. [Aside.] I am not sure she won’t ; 

As ’tis, my life upon’t she tears the letter up. 

[Ida tears and throws letter on ground. 
I knew she would ! — there’s small affection there. 

Lady Ida. Is’t come to this ; that I am to be made 
The mark for every witless fool to fling 
His folly at ? Must old and young conspire 
To gall me by this marriage-mongering ? 

Better to be set up for sale at once, 


28 


all’s fair in love. ' 


Priced by the public valuer, and so 
To the highest bidder be consigned, — 

Drawn for by lots, or else chance-husbanded 
By throwing of the dice — I’ll not endure it — 

The convent first. 

i, Enter Baron Altenheim, 

I Baron A. Why, what means this storm 1 
Lady Ida. Another insult, sir ! 

Baron A. Insult ! From whence 1 
Lady Ida. From the Count Lindorff. 

Baron A. Ha ! Durst he presume 

[Baron picks up pieces of letter, puts them together and reads. 
Bertha. ’Tis Eva’s father ; there’s no need of proof 
When Nature gives such living evidence. 

Baron A. Why this is an offer of his^and, my child. 

An offer of marriage from Count Lindorff ; — 

No empty title, but one garnished well 

With worth and wealth, two opposites that meet 

But rarely, let me tell thee, in one man. 

Thou wouldst be mad to treat this slightingly. 

Lady Ida. How can I answer thee ! I cannot bear 
The thought of wedlock ; yet, my better part 
Would fain obey thee as a daughter should — 

Thou would’st not have me wed, and know 
That in that act I gave away my peace. 

Baron A. When will this obstinacy have an end ? 

Too long a time I’ve bowed to thy caprice, 

I'll answer for thee, now, myself — nor dare 
To anger me by contradiction. [To Bertha.] Sir, 

Be this thy answer — that the Lady feels 
Much honored by his Lordship’s preference, 

And doth accept this proffer of his hand, 

Whereof, in token, she sends back this glove. 

[ Giving one of Ida’s groves. 
Lady Ida. A fair betrothal ! You may bind my hand 
To slavery, but mark me, I’ll soon rend 
My fetters off. Look to it, sir — 

When you bestow my hand 

It carries with it all a daughter’s love. [ Exit Ida. 

Baron A. How am I tortured by this wilful child ! 

Let there but be the semblance of restraint, 

Her haughty soul doth spurn it instantly. 

Of this I am resolved — she shall be his. 

Bertha. Thy daughter shall ! 

Baron A. If fortune help me ! 

Bertha. We’ve no need of her — 

I’ll promise that, if I will do as well. 

Baron A . How’s this ! 

Bertha. Nay, more, I’ll undertake that both 


29 


all’s fair in loye. 

Shall be of one contented mind thereat, 

Let me but have some speech with her alone 

Baron A. With all my soul — if this you can achieve 
By short of magic means. I'll bless your skill 
And shall reward it with an ample gift. 

Bertha. The magic of strange circumstance has given me 
A power more strong than cabalistic art 
Could e’er bestow, through which I promise you 
A day of joy will counterbalance all 
Of gloom that adverse fortune may have sent. 

I have a story for your ear alone, 

Will much amaze you — wilt thou hear it now 1 

Baron A. At once, boy, if it tells of good. 

Bertha. It does. 

Baron A. So much of ill hath happed in my dark life, 

1 dare not hope for brighter fortune now. 

Bertha. Sir, you may hope the brightest, give your thought 
Free scope, and let it mount on expectation, 

’Till it overtops your highest wish, you’ll find 
Reality will soar as far above it 
As Heaven’s beyond the stars. 

Baron A. You stop my breath : 

What can it be that you have knowledge of? 

Attend me to my library — at once 
I’ll test your power. 

Bertha. Sir, I follow. 

CURTAIN. 

ACT IY. 

Scene I. — Wood — set tree with practicable branch. 

Enter Otto, with Rope v 

Otto. Oh me ! that ever I should live to pump up so much miserable 
vapor— my heart is drowned in grief, and I’m weary of carrying about 
the dead lump ; the entertaining of a mortal love is but self-killing at 
the best — the longer it’s a doing the worse the crime ; — here’s my 
friend in this extremity — hemp is your speediest love cure ; yonder’s 
the nag and this is the stirrup that shall in an instant bear me furthei 
than the fleetest steed could compass — even from life into death, from 
somewhere into nowhere. Eva ! sweet Eva ! ’tis for thee I take th« 

\_Adjusts Rope. 

Enter Bertha. 

Bertha. I’ve told the Baron all I overheard 
Confessed by my repentant father, 

And in his extacy of new found joy 
Ensured forgiveness. — Speed I with the Count 
As well, my toil will be repaid. Ah! here’s 
Some work to do, upon mine own account. 

How now, friend Otto, what employment’s this ? 


30 


all’s fair in love. 


Otto. You’re well encountered, boy, for you can bear 
To her I love too much, my last adieu. 

Bertha. What mean you 1 

Otto. Just substantially to hang 

Myself and sorrows upon yonder branch. 

Bertha. To what wise woman, pray, do you bequeath 
Such foolish legacy ? 

Otto. To your sweet sister, Eva. 

Take to her, boy — my last of love and life. 

Bertha. Truly, a pair of comfortable gifts 
To a live woman, and conclusive proof 
That she who scorned them both, when they were at 
Their greatest worth to you or any else, 

Held estimation of their proper value. 

Go on and hang, then, — I'll stay here the while_ 

To see how sensibly a fool can die. 

Otto. The world holds nothing I can live for now 

Bertha. Nevertheless, ’twill merrily revolve, 

Although the lives of all its simpletons 
Were added to your own, nay, shout with glee 
To be thus easily discumbered of 
So valueless a load. Hang! Otto, hang! — 

I’ll fix the rope ; and yet, there’s one I know 
Would fain provide you with a different noose. 

Otto. There’s one you know — who, pray 1 

Bertha. No matter who. 

Be quick and hang yourself ; the rope is ready. 

If you’re so blind as not to see — be blind 
For ever, ere I let one streak of light 
Across your dull mental vision ; better hang 
It may be, that you’d rather die alone — 

Well, be it so ; but mind and do it thoroughly. 

Don't think of sneaking back again to life : 

I may’s well tell you. though, before you go, 

There is a heart within the neighborhood 
Leans somewhat toward you, in despite of all 
Your folly. — To be frank with you, Tve done 
My very best to quench the growing flame, 

But I’m afraid without avail. 

Otto. You’re very kind ; 

And bv what right did you, sir, interfere. 

Bertha. A brother’s right — Ah, me ! what have I said 
I don’t mean that 

Otto. You do, you do, — ’tis Bertha 

Who affects me ! is it not 1 You can’t say no 1 
You’re blushing, boy. I’ve found your secret out. 
Confess it ! 

Bertha. Promise me. you will not hint 
A word to her, or speak to me again 
Upon this subject ; it was very wrong 


FAIE IN LOVE. 


31 


all’s 

In me, and most unbrotherly. I am the last 
One in the world who should have spoken thus. 

Forget it, Otto, and go hang in quiet ! [ Exit Bertha. 

Otto. | Throw away Rope.] Friend Otto, be not offended if I call thee 
fool — a foggy brained — and most sandsighted fool — that such a love 
should be extant, and thou not instinctively to know it; talk no more 
of hanging — hie thee to verse-making, and let the sprightly Bertha be 
the subject. Go grief, come joy ! and let the world go hang. Otto ! 
sweet friend Otto ! thou ne’er shalt dangle to the tune of “ Cruel Fair 
One.” [ Exit Otto. 

Scene II. — A Garden. 

Enter Bertha. 

Bertha. Now for his silent lordship : if this spell 
Don't bring him to his voice, I’ll plot no more, 

But sit me down in quietness at home 
A model of contented spinsterhood — 

Make patchwork, read good books, rail night and day 
At all the neighborhood, — keep noisy birds, 

To scream at every passer-by, and pet 
Unsightly dogs for pastime. What do I seel 
The Count and Eva, as I live — and in 
Discourse. Am I forestalled 1 They come this way. 

Has the ice melted \ I believe it has. 

I must stretch courtesy, and hear their talk 
This time I’ll warrant, I’ll be well assured 

Of a good footing ere I step between them. [Retires behind A rbor. 

Enter Count Li.ndorff and Eva. 

Count L. Turn not away, dear Eva, but believe 
That the avowal I have just now made 
Of true regard and more than friendly interest, 

Springs not from sudden passion or caprice, 

But is of slow and well-considered growth; 

Admitted, I own, reluctantly at first, 

From day to day resisted and contemned; 

And yet, despite of all antagonism, 

Pride worldliness, or self, arrayed against it. 

Still here the sturdy seedling grew and grew, 

Until it’s clinging tendrils now entwine 
Among the very fibres of my heart. 

Eva. My lord, you do forget your state, or mine, 

If not the honor that belongs to both — 

However lowly one, or high the other. 

Count L. By honor’s self, I have no thought of thee 
In any wise, but with pure honor blent. 

Eva. I cannot, dare not listen to the words 
Which, answer as I may, would but impugn 
That proper pride and maidenly restraint. 


32 


all’s fair in love. 


Whose diminution in the smallest part 
Imperils self-respect. Leave me, my lord, 

I do entreat, or suffer me to go. 

Should any see this interview, what base 
Surmise might not result ; when slanderous tongues 
Conjoin estates so far apart as ours, 

The shame clings ever to the weaker side. 

Count L. Doubt not my truth and honesty of purpose. 

For here in all sincerity of soul. 

And in the devotion of an earnest love, 

That would ensaint its idol, not debase it, 

I woo you for my wife ! 

Bertha. It ’s time for me 

To interfere. [Advance*. 

Count L. Why this intrusion, sir? 

Bertha. Simply, my lord, that finding you were not 
Within your chamber, I made bold to break 
Upon your recreation, as I thought 
’Twould pleasure you to hear what full success 
Has crowned your marriage offer. 

Eva. Ah ! the shame 

I dreaded, has arrived most suddenly ! 

My heart is stricken, Max ! 

Bertha. Not Max ! look closer. 

Eva. Bertha, what wonder ’s this ? 

Bertha. Hush — hold your tongue — 

My lord, you are accepted. 

Count L. Boy, *tis false ! 

Bertha. Behold the proof, my lord, this dainty glove ? 

Her ladyship, I must confess, did storm, 

When first I placed your letter in her hand — 

But soon, by my persuasion, she was urged. 

Backed by her father’s counsel, to agree. 

And now, without regret or scruple, waits 
To help on the fulfilment of your hopes. 

Count L. Oh ! fate, oh, cruel unexpected fate ! [Throws down glovt 

Bertha. Is 't thus, my lord, you use a lady’s gage? 

Eva. Bertha ! what mystery is this ? I sink 
With apprehension ! 

Bertha. Don’t you interfere — 

You lack the confidence that brings success ; 

I’ll play your game out to the end ; 

You’re welcome to the stakes when I have won — 

Some animals from opposition move, 

And man the foremost. 

Count L. What is to be done ? 

That offer was but sent in desperation — 

Not, as I live, from any thought of love. 

Or even liking, but to try and force 
Your image from my mind, that I was told 


ALL S FAIR IN LOVE. 


S3 


Might not be suffered to remain with honor — 

Fool that I was ! dear Eva, counsel me ! 

Bertha. My lord, what answer am I to take back? 

Count L. I will send none ! away ! 

Bertha. Her father, yet, 

Will hold you to your proffer, be assured, 

Or else demand a large equivalent 
In case of forfeiture — he told me so. 

Count L. Let him take all, so he but free me from 
The net in which I have so foolishly 
Enmeshed myself. 

Bertha. He bade me ask you, too, 

If you will honor him to-morrow eve, 

With your fair company at his chateau ? 

It rests with you, my lord, to name 

The happy day ! . 

Count L. That day shall never come ! 

Bertha. Ah yes, my lord, 

It will. 

Count L. You’re saucy, sir. 

Bertha. Pray pardon me, my dear and honored lord, 

If I exceed my duty, but I speak the truth : 

You’ll visit him to-morrow eve ! 

Count L. I will — 

But not in the quality that he affects ! 

Eva, look up, my life, the die is cast — 

Pride, conquered, lies beneath the foot of love ! 

Birth, station, heritage, the useless forms 
And gauds of accidental greatness, all 
Before the radiance of thy inborn nobleness, 

Vanish like morning shadows! Come, beloved — 

Bertha. [Interposes.] Not yet, my lord! your lordship’s word is 
pledged 

Unto another, be that bond redeemed 
Or not, with humbleness I do submit, 

One courtship at a time is quite sufficient — 

Methinks your lordship’s hands are full already ; 

If you come free from this entanglement 
Alive — the Baron is a doughty swordsman — 

My sister, if she can entrust such fickleness, 

May listen to your suit ; of this be sure, 

No kin of mine I’ll own her, if she do. 

Count L. Thy disrespect shall not ’scape punishment. 

Bertha. I shall prepare me for my due reward, 

And that you may invent some torture 
For me, I tell you now, you ne’er shall wed 
My sister ! 

Count L. Who shall prevent it ? 

Bertha. I shall ! 

Yes, I ! most high and mighty, there’s a bar 


34 


all’s fair in love. 


In nature, prithee, see his color fly ! 

Count L. I’ll not believe it 1 Ah ! you smile, dear Eva ! 

[Going towards her , Bertha takes her hand. 
Bertha. Enough my lord, until you are released — 

To-morrow eve I’ll make my saying good 
Before the Baron’s self, and likewise prove 
How loose your Countship is in promises. 

Count L. I’ll meet thee and confound thee. Eva dear! 

Heed not his words, for I am thine alone. 

Whatever may betide — my love — my wife ! [Exit, 

Bertha. Fine words, my lord ! Nay, Eva dear, look up I 
Love, in that cross-grained contradiction, man, 

Is like a river, if the channel’s smooth, 

It lazily flows on with scarce a sound; 

But place an obstacle within its path, 

And mark then how it roaring circles round it. 

Believe me. ’tis good judgment in such case, 

To make success not altogether sure, 

For easy conquests are but slightly prized. 

Be not afraid to trust me, I know all ; 

My sister now in love and friendship only— 

I’ve seen your father, Eva, and to mine 

Brought back the balm that heals both mind and body, 

Even his full forgiveness for the rest — 

Be ruled by me and all will yet be well. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. — An apartment in the Chateau of Altenheim 
Enter Beaugar£on and Katrina. 

Chev. B. It wants some minutes of the hour, sweet Katrina, 

But my impatient love outstript the time. 

Am I still happy? — Holds she yet her mind? 

Katrina. As firm as ever ! — as she was resolved before, 

She is to-night, and shall for ever be. 

But you were wrong to come so soon — she’s not 
Prepared quite yet, and you must be content 
To take your station in this closet here. 

While I acquaint her that you have arrived. 

When you shall hear her clap her hands thrice, thus, 

Then bear away the meed of your brave enterprise. 

Chev. B. Be sure I will, thou harbinger of joy ; 

My heart is overflowing with delight — 

Let me embrace thee, Katrina, and pay 
The debt I owe thee with a loving kiss. 

Katrina. Nay, I’ll remain your creditor ; to your hiding-place ! 

If aught occur to mar this, for my mistress’ sake, 

You will be silent as a lover should. 

Chev. B. I promise. 

Katrina. Hark ! I hear a noise. In — in! 

[Exit Chev. B. into closet. 
Here comes the other, I must not be rjen. [Exit Katrina. 


all’s fair in lovf. 


35 


Enter Mynheer , following Krabb. 

Myn. Good Krabb. 

Krabb. Hush ! not so loud ! 

’Tis early, and the house is all astir. 

Myn. I’ll be as soft as a bird-stealing puss, 

If that be true you tell me, that to-night 
Rewards my persevering love. 

Krabb. Be sure 

I have npt falsely said. Yon chamber door, 

[ Points to closet where Chev. B. is concealed. 
Oh I happy Dutchman, hides the form of one 
Whose only wish is to possess thy love. 

Myn. And this thou'lt swear 1 
Krabb. By every Saint I know. 

Myn. Good Krabb ! Sweet Krabb ! The signal — boy, what is it 1 
Krabb. Thrice clap your hands. 

Myn. I’ll do it instanter. 

Krabb. No ! 

First, you must be quite sure the coast is clear. 

When you observe, through yonder open window 
My right hand held up, thus, then do not fear 

An interruption, but release yon fluttered [ Exit Krabb. 

Myn. Away ! away ! be quick ! 

Oh ! precious chamber, casket that contains 
A priceless jewel, a carbuncle rare, 

A pearl, not all the princes of the East 
Can parallel. [Gives signal.] Now, 

Come forth, my love ! 

[Mynheer claps his hands three times , and Beaugarcjon rushes 
from the closet into his arms. 

Chev. B. My love ! my life ! 

Myn. What brought this old fool here! Go home, 

And seek among your relatives for one 
To tend that spare anatomy; a nurse 
You may bribe, by prospective legacy, 

To swathe your brittleness in cozey wool, 

And feed your second childhood with its pap. 

Chev. B. If thou dost speak to me in such a strain, 

Beware my anger, sir; I wear a sword. 

Myn. So, so, Sir Hercules, what would you give 
Could you but have a lion now to rend 1 
Pray, calm your rage ; if thus you blow and fume, 

You’ll put your little spark of life clean out. 

Chev. B. Draw, draw ! thou bloated dyke-born bull-frog, draw, 

Or I II enfranchise the imprisoned breath 
That gasps within yon citadel of fat. 

Myn. Nay, don’t provoke me, or I’ll puff you out, 

I will — or, put some pungent powder in jmur nose, 

And make you 6seeze yourself to pieces ; 


3G 


all’s fair in t love. 


You wretched rag and remnant of a man, 

You bundle of loose bones wrapped up in parchment — 

But, I’ll be merciful : — to put you out 
Of misery at once, thou vain antiquity, 

Know I am by appointment here. 

Chev. B. And so am I. 

Myn. Impossible ! 

Chev. B. Nay, sir, it is the fact. 

And here comes one who will attest the truth 

Of what I say. » 

Enter Krabb — rushes down to Mynheer. 

Krahb. In, Mynheer, in ! — How’s this 1 The Chevalier here ! 

Then take my word there’s roguery afloat 
[7b Beau.] How gained you entrance, sir? 

Chev. B. Why, Katrina 

Krabb Well, if I didn’t think so ! What a wmrld is this ! 

Chev. B. Why, you yourself 

Krabb. When folly ’tis to trust 
To any thing that breathes and owns a tongue. 

Chev. B. You can’t deny 

Krabb. Nay, ’tis too late for words ; 

I came to tell the Mynheer, that my lady 
Is with her father, now, in great discourse, 

Pleading the cause, ’twould seem, of one of ye 
But which, I know not. 

[ Making sign to Beaugarqon, who returns it significantly. 
Nor can guess. [ Making sign to Mynheer. 

Myn. Hem ! Good ! 

Chev. B. [Aside.] Poor Dutchman. 

Krabb. Hark ! they’re coming this way — in. 

Chev. B. Let us be friends whatever may occur. 

Myn. With all my heart — I bear you no ill-will. 

[Aide.] Poor foolish atom ! when he finds it out. 

[Exit, Mynheer, into closet. 
Chev. B. [Laughing.] Unhappy Dutchman ! how he will be cozened. 

[Exit Beaugarqon into opposite closet. 
Krabb. [Laughing heartily. J May iny next post be handmaid to the 
whip 

If I don’t reverence tnose antique noodles, 

They hug their cozenage with such good nature. 

Enter Baron Altenheim and Lady Ida. Krabb signs to Lady Ida 
that they arc in closets, and then exits. 

Baron A. Cheer thee, my child ! kind fate hath scattered all 
The heavy clouds that hemmed me round, and turned 
To blackest night the noonday of my life. 

The sun of joy rebeams upon my heart, 

Giving sweet promise of a tranquil eve. 

Lady Ida. My father, from my soul I bless the chance, 


all’s fair in love. 


37 


Whate’er it be, that brings thee back content. 

Wilt urge no more this hated marriage 1 
Baron A. But why this great repugnance? 

Lady Ida. Is it strange 
That I should hate that merchant, one 
Who speaks per invoice, and sets down his sighs 
To count up the sum total of his love! 

One who would measure his affection out 
By rules of traffic — horridly afraid 
Of overweight ; — one w’hose religion ’tis 
From all he touches to extract a profit. 

What store, then, could he set upon a wife! 

Baron A. But in the other there’s no taint of trade, 

Since thou dost honest enterprise profane 
By such a thought ; to me ’tis nobler far 
By peaceful industry to raise a name 
That should in after ages live, revered 
For deeds of gentleness and mild humanity, 

Than in the blood of fellow-men to write 
The records of a title won by strife. 

Beaugargon’s noble — what say you to him ! 

Lady Ida. He’s much indebted to his title, sir. 

It lends him honor that he pays not back. 

Unto the prowess of some dead man’s arm, 

Some rich man’s purchase, or some wise man’s meed, 

He owes his station — not his own desert. 

He’s not the noble substance, honor fraught, 

But the poor shadow at its furthest verge. 

Baron A. Does your distaste extend to all the sex ! 

Lady Ida. To all. 

Baron A. Like other railers, you may meet 
One yet, who will revenge his fellow-men. 

I’ll find one for thee. 

Lady Ida. Then thou’lt have to seek 
Thro’ all the other planets, for this earth 
Contains him not. Forgive my waywardness, 

And let me deem myself impregnable 
To all but filial love ; or, if thou wilt 
Divide a heart which now is all thine own, 

Let him, who shares it, be, at least, a man ! 

Baron A. The treasure of such love will make me miser 
And wish to keep thee ever to myself. \Exit Baron and Ida. 

Enter Beaugarcjon and Mynheer from closets ; they look at each other 

foolishly. 

Che v. B. I never liked her much. 

Myn In truth, nor I. 

Chev. B. Were she a queen, I wouldn’t wed with her. 

Myn. Who would with such a dainty tongue ! Not I. 

Che v. A. To cast a slur on my nobility. 


38 


all’s fair in love. 


Myn. My honorable calling to abuse. 

Chev. B. She called we shadow ! 

Myn. And me, projit-seeker ! 

Chev. B. “ Shadow ! Poor Shadow /” Were she but a man, 

I’d make a shade of her to show how much 
I am a shadow. 

Enter Krabb, suppressing his laughter. 

Ha ! come here, thou knave, 

Thou lying, cheating knave, upon thy knee. 

Myn. And quickly, too, for you’ll have little shrift. 

Krabb. Good sirs ! good sirs ! (Why did’st not see her drift I 
[Aside to Beaugarqon ] Let me get him away, I’ll tell you all.) 

[Aside to Mynheer.] Is’t possible you could not fathom the deceit ? 
’Twas only done to blind her father. 

Myn. No 1 

Krabb. [ Aside to Mynheer.] As I’m an honest man, hie to her now, 
And if she be alone, no listener near 
To drink up the avowal of her love, 

You’ll find out whether I speak truth or not. 

Myn. { Aside to Krabb.] Well, I did think ’twas something of th« 
kind ; 

I’ll seek her out, good Krabb ; keep him in talk, 

That I may unobserved steal out. [ Exit Mynheer. 

Krabb. [To Beau.] ’Tis done ! 

His heart is broken past all remedy ; 

And see, how like a cur that fears the lash, 

He sneaks away and leaves the field to thee. 

Chev. B. And so he does, then I’m the favored one. 

Krabb. Did’st ever doubt it 1 

Chev. B. I can’t say I did. 

I’ll to her now, at once. 

Krabb. No, be advised : 

Wait till you see an opportunity 
To find her quite alone ; then never fear, 

But boldly calculate upon her favor. 

Chev. B. I'll hover near her all the live-long day ! 

I never saw it in this light before — 

It stands to reason that no modest tnaid 
Would care to have her tender feelings breathed 
In any ear, except the one beloved. 

[Exit Beauoarqon. — Enter Katrina. — Krabb and Katrina laugh 
heartily as Curtain descends. 


all's fair in love. 39 

ACT V. 

Scene I. — Handsome Apartment in Baron Altenheim’s Chateau. 

Flourish of trumpets — Enter Baron’s household , and array themselves 
on either side. — Enter Count Lindorff. 

Baron. My lord, let me express the joy I feel 
At greeting thus thyself and thy design. 

Count L. Give o’er this welcome, sir ; I am not come 
In quality to warrant such respect. 

May I beseech you to dismiss your suite ! 

[Baron waives off retinue. They exeunt. 
Baron. Now, Count, what means this strange behavior ! 

Come you not hither to redeem your gage, 

And ratify the proffer of your hand 
Contained within this paper ! Is it not 
Your signature, my lord! 

Count L. Alas ! it is ; 

But drawn from me by most intemperate heat 
And cruel misconception. Hear me, sir, 

I love another ; and ’twas in despair, 

For that I thought her lost to me forever, 

Scarce knowing what I did, I penned 
That fatal offer. 

Baron. How, sir ! Have a care, 

Though old, I have sufficient manhood left 
To guard my child from insult. I do know 
Thy fair enthraller — is she not a serf! 

Count L. Sir, she’s a woman, and possesses all 
A woman’s perfectness. 

Baron. Thou wilt not wed her! 

Count L. Aye, by the deep devotion of my love ! 

And glory more in making her my wife 
Than if she could command a throne. 

Baron. Young sir, 

You’ll have to answer this in such away 
As you but little dream of. 

Count L. I’m content. 

Baron. Here comes my child ! Wilt keep to thy resolve, 

And in her presence give up blood and wealth, 

And link thee with a slave and poverty! 

Thou’rt silent. 

Count L. Silent, sir, but not from shame. 

Before the assembled state, I would declare 
My fixed determination ; but, would fain 
Thy daughter save from such indignity. 

Baron. Not so — she must her own dismissal hear, 

If thou wilt so transgress the laws of honor. 

[Enter Lords , Ladies, Servants, and Retainers , then Eva, in a hri 
dal dress — veiled. 


40 


all’s fair in love. 


Count L. [/Is they enter ] Eva, dear Eva ! ’tis thy influence 
That calms my rising anger, and controls 
The fierce resentment kindling in my breast. 

I will yet bear for thy dear sake — no taunt 
Shall force me to forget — I’ve given all 
Thought, word, and action — life and soul to thee ! 

Baron. Come, child, and greet your lordly suitor — see 
Where he stands — how like an ardent swain 
He longs to rush into your arms. Behold 1 
What evidence his burning cheek now gives 
Of his intense affection. Mark him well, 

For he’s no common suitor. He seeks not 
For love ; but for its opposite, my child, 

And doth refuse thee — casts thee off — proclaims 
And glories in his love for some vile serf, 

Some low-born minion, shame to his high state. 

Count L. My lord, I cannot hear such language held, 

Of her , for whom alone I live and breathe. 

I would have spared your daughter this discourtesy ; 

But you enforce it from me. Listen, sir : — 

Hid in obscurity, I chanced to find 
A jewel of such sovereign brilliancy, 

To rarest gems it was itself a gem ! 

Would’st value most the precious jewel, 

Or the accidental place wherein ’twas found 1 
She whom I love is poor in worldly store, 

But rich in gifts which heaven alone bestows. 

Baron A. Then you’ve resolved to give my daughter up 1 
You shall not, if there be but strength in love. 

Count L. ’Tis strength of love that forces me away ; 

And so, farewell, my lord, and you fair lady, 

May you meet one more worthy of your choice. [Going. 

Eva. Kind heaven, forbid ! 

Count L. That voice ! Who speaks 1 
What phantasy is this 1 No tongue but one 
Could fall upon my heart with such a thrill ! 

[To Baron.] I note your looks — there is some mystery — 

Expound it quick ! — ’tis not a fatal one, 

Or else your eye dissembles. Answer me, 

Was that your daughter’s voice 1 
Baron A. It was. 

Count L. Alas ! 

Then new-born hope is stifled in its birth , 

And yet. my pulse beats with a joyous throb. 

[To Eva.] Thou hast her form and voice ; hast thou, percnance, 

Her face as well 1 But no, both voice and form 
May find their counterpart, but not her face. 

Eva. And yet, they tell me I am somewhat like her. 

Count L. Impossible ! Thy tongue hath lost its charm 
For lending speech unto such vanity. Farewell. 


all’s fair in love. 


41 


Eva. [ Unveiling .] Judge for thyself. 

Count L. Oh, heaven ! ’tis she — ’tis she ! 

Eva indeed 1 And yet. how came you here 1 
In this attire, and in such noble state 1 
I cannot fancy ’tis reality, 

But a sweet dream, that witches thus my sense — 

I fear to touch thee, lest the blissful spell 
Should in the act be broken. 

Eva. Nay, venture near, you’ll find I am no shadow, 

But am, indeed, what thou dost think — 

Eva — much changed in outward form, ’tis true, 

But still in heart the same. 

Count L. [ Embracing her.] My precious love! 

Oh ! happiness beyond the reach of words — 

I scarce can speak — or think — my very sense, 

In sweet confusion, reels within my brain — 

And, in the mazy labyrinth of joy, 

Can find, as yet, no point of certainty ; 

I will not ask how Fortune hath achieved 
This blessed ending — but whate’er thou art, 

Noble or Serf, here, in the face of all, 

I proffer thee my heart and title, prouder far 
To call thee by the loving name of wife, 

Than were I now to be enthroned an Emperor. 

Baron A. Thus ever may disinterested love 
Meet due reward. Count, from my hand receive 
A noble bride, and one with dower as rich 
As Germany can boast : and, be assured. 

That marriage gives, best promise of content 
Whose rights are hallowed by a father’s prayers. 

Count L. Her father ! Thou 1 
Baron A. Aye, Count, her loving father, 

Twice blessed by heaven through her sweet means — 

First in her birth, and now, oh ! greater boon, 

In finding her restored to these fond arms ! 

The strange recital you shall know anon. 

Receive, and cherish her with tenderest care, 

For on her happiness doth hang my life. 

Count L. And mine — and mine ! Ah ! bounteous, priceless gift ! 
Beloved one — thou knowest not half the joy 
That, like the music of Seraphic tongues, 

Now thrills through every sense — for thou art mine ! [ They retire up. 
Enter Lady Ida — and Bebtha (in female attire ,) at lack. 

Baron A. But where’s this malapert young page? he said 
He should be here. 

Lady Ida. And so he is, dear father. 

Baron A. Where 1 
Bertha He’s here, my lord. 

Count L. What, Bertha ! thou the page 1 


42 


all’s fair in love. 


Bertha. The Baron's daughter do you’still reject ! 

You keep your word, of course, and wed my sister. 

Who can believe the promise of a man 1 
Eva. Dear Bertha 1 

Bertha . You have won the game, I see 

Baron A. And so you were the page 1 
Bertha. The husk of one, 

And nothing more. 

Count L. How can I recompense hee 

Bertha. Favors are cancelled best when paid in k.n£ 

I’ve helped you to a spouse, nor would I be 
The usurer to ask one fraction more 
Than I advanced. 

Count L. Is it your wish to marry ^ 

Bertha. How excellent you are, my lord, at gueasv 
In finding out your heart, I somehow lost 
My own — and ’twas a servitor of thine 
Told where it was, who stooped and picked it up. 

Count L. Hast his in lieu 

Bertha. I ne’er had rested else— 

The knave demurred, but I enticed it from him. 

Count L. I’ll put no limit to your wish, be sure, 

But portion you beyond the reach of care. 

Baron. And let me add a vineyard on the Rilin' ; 

Too slight return for all I owe to thee. 

Bertha. My lords, my lords, that Otto were but bj , 

To see and hear the prize he’s going to marry. 

Yonder he lurks — ho ! Otto — hang not back. 

Enter Otto. 

Are you ashamed 1 

Otto. Faith, that I truly am. 

Bertha. What sir, to claim the gift my brother promised I 
Otto. Oh ! no ! were I assured he spoke the truth, 

I’d be as bold as any man on earth, 

But I am as it were in grievous doubt. 

Bertha. Otto, hold up your head — without your knowledge. 
You have just reached your lucky time in life, 

Nay, turned it, for within the last few minutes, 

Fortune has blessed you with a coat of arms ! 

Otto. What does this mean 1 

Bertha. That you’re a gentleman ! 

Otto. Am I, and by what right 1 
Bertha. By right of me, 

And of your noble vineyard on the Rhine. 

Speak I not truly, sirs ! 

Baron. The very truth. 

Bertha. You’re ’mazed ! well, come, we’ll feed your little brain 
With a 6mall meal of wonder at a time — 

For present need, enough to know I’ve watched 


all’s FAIR IK LOVE. 


43 


Your simpleness of heart and like it — will you have me! — 

What ! not a word ! do you refuse! 

Otto. Oh, no ! 

But it's so sweet to dally with delight — 

I but delayed a moment to enhance the bliss ! 

Just as one contemplates a savory morsel 
With greedy eyes and mouth all watery, 

Then gulps and swallows. [Kisses her frantically. 

Bertha. Hold ! Otto, hold ! 

Otto. I ne’er will let thee go, 

From these my arms and this my constant heart. 

Bertha. In sooth, the ice is broken with a vengence ! 

[ They retire. Baron and Lady Ida advance. 
Baron. What have you done with your besiegers, Ida! 

Ida. Capitulated for an honorable peace — 

The siege is raised, and each withdraws his force, 

Upon condition that my heart remain 
Neutral to both ; and now of course, each claims 
The victory for himself, and hopes in time 
To wear me as his trophy. 

j Enter Beaugarqon, with Katrina, and Mynheer with Krabb. 

Katrina. You’re satisfied. 

Chev. B. Distinctly, you were right. 

I am the man — how much do I owe you ? 

Katrina. Oh, sir ! whate’er your liberality suggests. 

Chcv. B. I shan’t forget you, be assured. 

Katrina. Nor I. [They retire, 

f Krabb to Mynheer ] Hast seen her! 

Myn. Yes, I have. 

Krabb. And art content ! 

Myn. Beyond content, I’m in the very skies, 

And you shall hear no more complaints from me. 

Krabb. Then am I happy ; I can’t take reward — 

Indeed, I cannot, sir, I have but done 
My duty. 

Myn. I did not intend 

Krabb. Forgetfulness. 

I know you did not. 

Myn. [Giving money.] You’re a cunning rogue. 

Krabb. You flatter me. 

Katrina. [To BEAUGARgoN.] You said you owed me something, sir ; 
might I presume to ask how much ! 

Chev. B. I see ; 

You’re a right waiting-woman — there. 

Katrina. Oh, thanks, my lord. 

Baron A. [To Mynheer.] You know my daughter’s mind. 

Myn. At last I do. 

From her own mouth I ascertained this fact : 

She hates Beaugargon — what think you of that I 


44 


all’s fair in love. 


To me, ’twas all but the acknowledgment 

Another had found favor in her sight. [Retires — BEAUGARgoN advances. 
Baron A. How fares your wooing 1 
Chev. B. As I would desire — 

All cloud and sunshine, like an April morn. 

I do not court the dull monotony 

Of a smooth, mawkish, easy acquiescence, 

But love to have my spirits raised or sunk 
By alternations of misdoubt and hope. 

Hedges and ditches, to the man who hunts, 

But lend increased excitement to the sport. 

There’s one thing certain, she detests the Dutchman — 

She told me so, herself ; and — there’s a look — 

That glance suffices me — I’ll feed upon it, 

Until sweet opportunity unseal her tongue. [ All down for tag. 

Otto. Dost think ’twas fair in thee, to court delay, 

And keep thy secret for so long a day. 

Baron A. Or fair to linger, when you could impart 
One instant earlier, to this aged heart, 

The bliss that now encircles it 1 

Lady Ida. Or fair 

To mock me with a suitor 1 But I’ll bear 
My fate with fortitude. 

Krabb. Or fair to plot 

And deal in secrets 1 

Katrina. We discovered not. 

Count L. Or fair to flutter my sweet timid dove 
As you did, yesterday, with that same glove 1 
Bertha Oh, yes it was. 

All. How so 1 

Bertha. “ ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE.” 


CURTAIN. 


/L 

Jt, 

/ / of Rouen, 
Rival, 

''oasure, 

120 . Domby & Son, 

127. Parents and Guardians, 

128. Jewess. 


/s ue continued from second page of cover.] 


VOL. XVII. 

129. Camille 

130. Married Life, 

131. *Wen!ock of Wenlock 

132. Rose of Ettrickvale, 

133. David Copperfield, 

134. Aline or the Rose of 

135. Pauline, [Killarney, 

136. Jane Eyre. 


! VOL. XVIII. 

137. Night and Morning, 

138. AEthiop, 

139. Three Guardsmen, 

140. Tom Cringle, 

141. *Henriette,the Forsak’n 

142. *Eustache Baudin, 

143. Ernest Maltravers, 

144. Bold Dragoons. 


VOL. XIX. 

145. Dred; or, the Dismal 

Swamp. 

146. * Last Days of Pompeii. 

147. * Esmeralda. 

148. *Peter Wilkins. 

149. *Ben the Boatswain. 

150. * Jonathan Bradford. 

151. Retribution. 

152. *Mineralli. 


YOL. XX. 

153. *French Spy. 

154. Wept of Wish-ton- 

Wish. 

155. # Evil Genius. 

156. *Ben Bolt. 

157. *SaiIor of France. 

158. Red Mask 

159. Life of an Actress. 

160. Wedding Day. 


YOL. XXL 

161. All’s Fair in Love. 

162. Hofer. 

163. Self. 


THE SPANISH WIFE; by Samuel M. Smcckkr, Esq, with a Portrait and Me- 
moir of EDWIN FORREST. Price 12% cents. 

THE OATH OF OFFICE; by Charles James Cannon, Esq., with a Portrait of 
the Author. Price 12% cents. 

GUTTLELAND GULPIT. Price 12% cents. 


TEN OF THE ABOVE PLAYS FOR $1 00. 


American Plays 12 £ Cents each, or 10 for $ 1 . 00 . 

Sent by Mail on receipt of Price. 

UP* All orders will receive prompt attention. 

N. B. — A new Play published every week. 

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* Those marked thus ( * ) are in Press. 


FRENCH’S MINOR 

Price 12J Cents each — Bound Vc 


YOL. II. 

9. The Pride of the Market, 

10. Used Up, 

11. The Irish Tutor, 

12. The Barrack Room, 

13. Luke the Laborer, 

14. Beauty and the Beast, 

15. St. Patrick’s Eve, 

16. Captain of the Watch. 
With a Portrait and Memoir 

of Miss C. WEMYSS. 

YOL. V. 

33. Cocknies in California, 

34. Who Speaks First, 

35. Bom bastes Furioso, 

36. Macbeth Travestie, 

37. Irish Ambassador, 

38- Delicate Ground, 

39. The Weathercock, 

40. All that Glitters is 

Gold. 

With a Portrait and Memoir 
of W. A. GOODALL. 


not 


YOL. I. 

1 . The Irish Attorney, 

2. Boots at the Swan, 

3. How to pay the Rent, 

4. The Loan of a Lover, 

5. The Dead Shot, 

6. His Last Legs, 

7. The Invisible Prince, 

8. The Golden Farmer. 

With a Portrait and Memoir 

of Mr. JOHN SEFTON. 

YOL. IV. 

25. Secret Service, 

26. Omnibus, 

27. Irish Lion, 

28. Maid of Croissey,’ 

29. The Old Guard, 

30. Raising the Wind, 

31. Slasher and Crasher, 

32. Naval Engagements. 

With a Portrait and Memoir 

of Miss ROSE TELBIN. 

YOL. VII. 

49. Box and Cox Married 

50. St. Cupid, [and Settled, 

51. Go to bed Tom, 

52. The Lawyers, 

53. Jack Sheppard, 

54. The Toodles. 

55. The Mobcap, 

56. Ladies Beware. 

With a Portrait and Memoir 

of SOL SMITH. 

YOL. X. 

73. Ireland and America, 

74. Pretty Piece of Business, 

75. Irish Broom-maker, 

76. To ParisandBackforjC5 

77. That Blessed Baby, 

78. Our Gal, 

79. Swiss Cottage, 

80. Young Widow. 

YOL. XIII. 

97. My Wife’s Mirror. 

98. Life in New York. 

99. * Middy Ashore. 

100.*Crown Prince. 

10L*Two Queens. 

102. *Thumping Legacy. 

103. *Unflnished Gentleman, 

104. *House Dog. 

Bar American Plays 12 X cents each ; or ten for $1. Sent 
Price. *** All orders will receive prompt attention. 

N. B. — A new Play published every week. 

S. FRENCH, 121 Nassau 


Vl 


17. The Sec 

18. White Ho 

19. The Jacc v y 

20. The Bog? .. 

21. Box and Cox, 

22. Bamboozling, 

23. Widow’s Victim, 

24. Robert Macaire. 

With a Portrait and Memoir 
of Mr. F. S. CHANFRAU. 

YOL. VI. 

41. Grimshaw, Bagshaw, 

and Bradshaw, 

42. Rough Diamond, 

43. Bloomer Costume, 

44. Two Bonny castles, 

45. Born to Good Luck, 

46. Kiss in the Dark, 

47. ’Twould Puzzle a Con- 

48. Kill or Cure. [juror, 
With a Portrait and Memoir 

of F. M. KENT. 


YOL. VIII. 

57. Morning Call, 

58. Popping the Question, 

59. Deaf as a Post, 

60. New Footman, 

61. Pleasant Neighbor, 

62. Paddy the Piper, 

63. Bryan O’Lynn, 

64. Irish Assurance. 


YOL. XI. 

Sl.O’Flannigan and Fairies 

82. Irish Post, 

83. My Neighbor’s Wife, 

84. Irish Tiger, 

85. P. P. or Man and Tiger, 

86. To Oblige Benson, 

87. State Secrets, 

88. Irish Yankee. 

YOL. XIV. 

105. The Demon Lover. 

106. Matrimony. 


89. 

90. 

91. 

92. 

93. 

94. 

95. 

96. 


VOL. IX. 

Temptation, 

Paddy Carey, 

Two Gregories, 
King Charming, 
Pocahontas, 
Clockmnker’s Hat, 
Married Rake, 
Love and Murder, 


YOL. XII. 

A Good Fellow, 
•Cherry and Fair Star, 
•Gale Breezely, 

Our Jemimy, 

♦Miller’s Maid, 
•Awkward Arrival, 
•Crossing the Line, 
Conjugal Lesson. 


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